The Oojvo Guide
by Plasmolysis
Summary: Semi-obscure travel writer Tamzin Bewley is diverted to Oojvo, a small island just outside of the Orange Archipelago. The island is home to something unusual - something nobody has ever been able to work out...
1. The Oojvo Guide, The Beginning

It's a bright sunny spring day and the Viridian City centre had never looked better. After the dark cold winter some colour is coming back: the once bare trees now show a rudimentary display of green hues that will define them in the warmer months as a new generation of leaves erupt into being; the dead flowerbeds begin their path to recovery with the tentative growth of the weakly coloured petals that become richer and stronger over time, poking gently out of the rich virgin soil; the growth of the topiaries that line the main street is no longer stunted, their restriction from growing was over. Soon we may see some Spearow nests under construction in the leafy depths. The winter weather had been the oppressive omnipresent force and now the sun floating higher and higher in the sky with each passing day with a renewed blazing shine was the liberator, laying the foundations for a new era of frenzied photosynthesis.

Not far from the centre is a stone bowl that had been dug into the ground fifty years previously by a couple of Machokes. The oppressive winter condemns any sort of colourful expression and as such only dead branches and twigs are allowed to exist amongst the brown soil within the bowl. We have to wait until the Earth wobbles on its axis and allows maximum radiation to strike this part of the world before we remember why such an ancient, crumbling, derelict, worn stone bowl could ever exist here in the middle of a bustling urban environment. Surely it's just a waste of space? There are plenty of other areas of nature around the city that are in a much better condition and even have colour during the coldest and loneliest nights of wintry pessimism. But, as the Earth wobbles and the first plants shyly emerge, it comes back to us. Here, the golden orb hovering above the clouds shines freedom onto the bowl, heralding the beginning of a bloom.

But this bowl isn't important to the story. Instead, let's ignore it for the time being; push it to the back of your mind. Walk past the stone bowl in a northerly direction and keep going for at least a kilometre (0.62 miles; 3281 feet for the imperially minded), down the street lined with the cream coloured terraced buildings with their mahogany-tiled roofs that are a host to a multitude of different small businesses and shops and the like, all of them having small balconies on the second floor, hanging over the doorways like a porch. Watch your feet though and don't trip over the uneven cobbles that were laid on the ground a century and a half ago, and also keep your eye out for scurrying Rattata. They may be purple and stand out immensely against the whole street, but if you're too busy watching what merchandise the businesses and shops have displayed in their front window and thinking whether to purchase Morph Mail or Surf Mail for the P$30 bargain (the usual cost being P$50 of course), you could be arranging a sudden meeting between the cobbles and your face. And let me tell you, the cobbles aren't very face-friendly.

Before long you would have walked the kilometre, the centre just a figurative dot in the distance. Now stop and turn to your right. You may think the building you're now looking at is identical to the many you've already passed: cream coloured with a balcony hanging over the entrance. Only this one has the sign _Viridian Ventures Bookstore _propped up in the window, behind some of the latest books on sale on view to the outside world. Ivy has grown up from the dirty cobbled street below the small window ledge and encrusted itself in the cream walls around the window and had so far spread roughly half way up the building, but apart from these minor details _Viridian Ventures Bookstores_ is indistinguishable from any other shop you may pass down this street.

Enter the bookshop and greet the person sitting behind the counter on an old spindly chair. He is an old white haired man who clearly has a passion for books; otherwise he wouldn't sit besides the till for seven hours a day, perhaps serving no more than ten customers in that time period. One would maybe wonder how the shop manages to keep float financially. It seems that the white haired man sits there reading the various books he sells one at a time, only looking up when he feels the presence of a human entering his shop or to ward of a wandering Pidgeotto or a curious Rattata. Next to him is a Nidorino, quietly snoozing at the foot of the spindly chair.

_Viridian Ventures Bookstores_ is not a large shop: the counter is immediately on the right as soon as you step in, and there is probably a metre's gap between the counter and the bookcases that rise to the ceiling so the man does not have a long walk to retrieve and replace books. The opposite side of the shop is at most a ten metre stroll away. The bookcases are old elm structures stretching the length of the shop each with seven shelves each chock full of heavy volumes and small pamphlets alike. A new genre of book begins every fifteen or so books across and white signs with the man's handwriting in block capitals are stuck to the top shelf where a new genre begins. Other than this simple categorization, there is no order to where the books are placed. It is not a large collection of books by any means, but relative to the size of the shop it is pretty impressive.

Head past the counter, move down to the third bookcase from the door and sidle down the row, careful not to stumble into the towering bookcases either side of you. Look up and you will see one of the man's white signs with _Travel_ handwritten. There are seven shelves with various travel books, travel guides, map books et cetera with a plethora of styled and coloured spines: some are written about Kanto, several about Johto, others about specific places like _The Ultimate Guide to Cinnabar Island_ _and What To Expect at Mt. Coronet_ and a couple detailing where the best places to find grass Pokémon in Hoenn. You can look at these another time. Avert your eyes from these books and lower your gaze. On the second shelf from the bottom you may see a bright red spine sticking out from the less vibrantly coloured books either side. You will see it is titled _My Experiences in the Whirl Islands and Other Johto Appendages. _

The author of the book is a person called Tamzin Bewley.

Now move to the right slightly and look at the top most shelf under _Travel_. What you're looking for is a thin, dark blue book about 15cm in height. Can you see it? No? Look a little further to the right. See it now? It's nestled neatly in between _Sights of Pewter City _and _There Could Only Be One Blackthorn City_.

_The Oojvo Guide_. You've found it. As the white-haired man behind the counter might tell you, that book has been there for sixteen years and nobody has ever bought it. You might have noticed that when you picked it up the exposed areas were covered in a thick layer of dust. Not so much as a fingerprint would be found indented in the dust. The pages of the book haven't seen proper daylight for almost 200 months so clearly no one is interested in it or haven't done a good enough job of looking for it. And here's I am telling you to have a look at it. What's so special about it then? you may ask. To tell you the truth, there is nothing special about the book. Well apart from the fact it lay gathering dust in a little known bookshop in the corner of Viridian City for sixteen years having even been touched by anyone in that time span.

Until today that is.


	2. The Travelling Writer

It took the phone in the corner of her room to ring loudly before 33 year old travel writer Tamzin Bewley would look up from her two sets of notes, one set hurriedly scribbled down on the old notepad she kept with her at all times, the other more laboriously written out on lined A4 pieces of paper. The room she was presently in was dark, only the lamp placed on the desk under the window provided any light, and the amount of illumination it gave was generous at best. The sound of the ringing phone had brought her back to reality; for the first time in at least an hour she consciously acknowledged that she was in this room, this room in this ship that was sailing on this ocean to her next destination. It took her a couple of seconds to realise that there was a phone in the room for she had been so preoccupied with her work that her surroundings had disappeared from view, they had just melted away. The only things that existed for that hour of so were her hands, her pen and her notepad resting on the old wooden desk.

Tamzin groaned and then yawned immediately afterwards. It was late and she knew it. But she wanted to copy down the notes she had made that day first before turning in. How late it was, she did not know, but the absence of any sun and any meaningful daylight meant it must be late. The phone continued ringing as she checked the time on her wristwatch.

2:17am. The jump back to reality meant all her senses also jumped back to her. Whilst she worked hard there was just her vision - perfect vision as she carefully duplicated her notes, watching her pen make its way across the white pages, pausing, glancing over to her notepad and then copying some more words. There was nothing else in sight, no sound, no aromas floating around, no sensation in her body telling her how uncomfortable the chair she was sitting in was or how tired and cramped her writing arm was, just the sight of her hand, pen and notepad in front of her while her brain ran on auto-pilot. But the cry of the phone had sent a shock to her brain telling her body to wake up, and to wake up quickly. As a result, a mash of stimuli came crashing around her body into her brain all at once. The most prominent of all were aches all along her right arm and hand screaming out for some rest. Other sensations yearning to make themselves known were the hunger from her stomach (she missed the evening meal because she was working), the thirst of having not had a drop of liquid for five hours (she had been working) the headache from straining her eyes against the low light levels (she had been working too hard to notice) and the sudden need to go to the bathroom (her bladder had been suppressed because, well, I'm sure you can guess why).

That damn phone. She had been working in blissful ignorance of these little foibles before it started yelling for attention. She slowly pushed herself up from the chair behind the desk and steadied herself on her feet which she hadn't used since returning to her room, before ambling over to the phone that continued to ring on the table next to her bed.

"Hello?" she said wearily, sitting down carefully on the bed. The whole lower half of her body was currently experiencing pins and needles and Tamzin couldn't help wincing as she made contact with the soft duvet.

"Sorry Tamzin, did I wake you?" came the apologetic reply on the opposite end of the line. It was Cherry Kingsman, Tamzin's agent. The heavy air in the room was making her feel very sleepy.

"No, it's alright," Tamzin answered faintly. It was taking her brain a long time to form coherent sentences and send the impulse down the long road to her mouth. "I was just finishing working." Which of course was a lie. She was no way near to finishing. "What's up?"

"It's Edd from Boulderhouse. He wants you to stop off at an island called Oojvo before you come back. He said you will get extra if you cover it and it would only add a couple of days to your journey."

"Mmmhmmm," Tamzin said mindlessly. She didn't really take in what Cherry had said for a few seconds until her brain fired up. "What? Where did he say I should go?"

"This island that's just outside the Orange Archipelago. It's not very well known. Pronounced OO-juh-VOH. He said there should be a ferry service from Trovitopolis to the island. It'll just be a little detour - you'll still make it to Trovita Island by the end of the week." Trovitopolis was a large port city on the western shores of Mandarin Island South, the largest island in the Orange Archipelago.

"Trovitopolis? I'm heading there tomorrow."

"Don't you mean today? It's two in the morning." Cherry pointed out.

"Yeah, whatever." Tamzin yawned. "Let me get this down." She scrambled over to her notepad where her quickly scribbled notes lived.

"He said the name of the city the ferry goes to is called Arcane City." Cherry continued.

"Arcane City, Oojvo Island." Tamzin repeated, jotting the information down and ignoring the stabbing aches of her writing hand. "And how much more am I going to get paid?"

"Edd said at least 5% more."

"Not bad for a couple days extra tropical exploring." Tamzin sighed, lying back on the bed.

The conversation ended shortly afterwards and because Tamzin had been interrupted at such an early hour she didn't feel like returning to her notes. Plus, the powerful feeling of tiredness had crept over her body, particularly around her eyes. Her eyelids were becoming progressively heavier and harder to keep up and she was also already lying down on the bed, creating a pretty compelling argument that she should get some sleep.

Tamzin didn't have the energy to hoist herself from the nice comforting bed. Her legs, which had been forced to stay in the bent position they take when one sits down for too many hours, had shut down and weren't responding to when Tazmin tried to move them. It felt like her legs had been replaced with two solid lumps of lead moulded into the shape of legs. Of course they hadn't really, as Tamzin could see her them just reaching into the circle of light that the desk lamp provided. Anything closer than her midriff could not be seen.

_Screw it_, she thought. _I've got days left to finish it off_.

The it she was thinking of was a rather large section of the new travel book she was currently writing. After the mild success of her first travel book _My Experiences in the Whirl Islands and Other Johto Appendages _(adapted from notes she had taken when travelling through Johto when she was 19), the publishing company that had accepted her first book, Boulderhouse Writing, requested that she do a follow up piece focusing on the Orange Archipelago. What made Tazmin accept this request was a combination of her love for travelling, her love of writing notes, the fact that Boulderhouse Writing would pay for a substantial part of the trip (making it an almost all-expenses paid vacation) and that she was getting paid a handsome sum for doing it. The mild success of _My Experiences in the Whirl Islands and Other Johto Appendages _brought Tamzin a small amount of money, and coupled with the salary she got from writing a weekly travelling column in the _Viridian Daily Chronicle_ newspaper made Tamzin moderately financially secure. However, travelling around the Orange Archipelago by cruise liner/ferry was not cheap by any standards. It was the only way she could make her way around though: Tamzin could not write up her notes whilst travelling on a Pokémon by sea or air. She had agreed to pay hotel costs (she could recuperate the losses with the money she would make when the book was published) but with the ticket deal Boulderhouse Writing had got from the ferry service, she was on a tight schedule and as a consequence couldn't stay in a single hotel for longer than two nights.

It was with the knowledge that she'd be visiting an extra island later that day that Tamzin drifted off to sleep a little more than three minutes after she had put the phone down. Her mind subconsciously glazed over the memories of the past few days as it always did when she was on her travels. So far she had docked at most of the eastern islands of the Orange Archipelago. There, she had seen many many different kinds of Pokémon coloured fabulously different from the ones she had seen in Johto; she had visited many different landmarks and towns and cities with the help of friendly (and the occasional unfriendly) locals; taken in the smells and the tastes of the unique tropical cuisine each island had to offer; stayed in (albeit for a short amount of time) a vast array of different hotels, ranging from the luxury 5-star air conditioned master deluxe bedroomed with stunning views of the glistening sea to the squashed hammocks of a more down to earth camping facility on the side of a mountain; even sampled the latest Poké technology that was circulating its way around the islands and soon to be developed on the continent further north. What her mind could not remember was all written down on the notepad that would always be found in Tamzin's pocket: every experience that she found herself in was always recorded down so she could write it up when she got back on a ship. She had at least two hundred pages worth already, and she was only half way through. There were still most of the western islands left.

And now that there was a _new_ island to visit made the journey seem even more exciting. She had gone over each island that she would be stopping off at quickly before she left and carried a little guidebook around with her so she could get her bearings and find out what there is to do on each island. This was all very well and good for her but the mystery and intrigue of a _new _island; one that Cherry said was not very well known was rather exciting. If it was not very well known, then she could be the first person to write about it! In the future the new generation of travel writers would have _her_ book with them as an accompanying guide. Tamzin Bewley would be the authoritative figure on the island of Oojjuvoo or whatever it was called. That would be pretty sweet, her brain murmured to her, and Tamzin smiled before her brain finally shut down for the night.

So here she was, travelling on the SS Neptune at 2:25 in he morning on her way to Mandarin Island South. At this point, Mandarin Island South was a dark rock in the distance, protruding the murky, flat expanse of the ocean that stretched for eternity to the horizon and beyond. By now the only source of light in the sky apart from the hundreds of thousands of stars that twinkled trillions of miles above was the silently shining moon, which cast a long promenade of silver across the tranquil waters. This silver road of light upon the face of the sea was interrupted only by the gliding white SS Neptune and the infrequent surfacing of water Pokémon from below. Oojvo was just a tiny dot in the distance.

All was calm.


	3. Humid Subtropical

For the second time in eight hours it took the phone to ring loudly to get Tamzin's attention, though instead of interrupting her writing, a pleasant dream about riding a galloping Rapidash over the rainbows of Mt. Silver was broken just at the point where the shadowy figure at the summit standing waiting for her became identifiable.

"Huh? Whazzgoin' on?" she mumbled incoherently into her pillow, hand blindly grasping out for the phone on her bedside table. "Hello?"

"Good morning Tamzin!" came a patronisingly cheerful voice from the other end of the line. "Is it true what I've been hearing that you're the only passenger left on the ship?"

It took a moment before it registered in her mind. Her eyes snapped open immediately. "What?"

"Oh it's nothing _really_; I just heard from somebody that some inconsiderate soul was keeping the boat from leaving the harbour, that's all. They're complaining how anybody could still be on the boat this late in the day." Condescendingly merry and smug, the photographer that was responsible for the high quality photos in Tamzin's first book sat on the shining marble of the Trovitopolis harbour edge, legs dangling over the calm azure sea some five metres below, head tilted away from the intense glare of the sun overhead. "You'd better get moving before they throw you off, I've heard that's what they do over here. You'd better be quick, the captain looks really angry."

"Eh? What time is it?" Tamzin asked hurriedly, throwing the duvet from the bed and springing onto her feet, landing in an attack position ready to grab her belongings at lightning speed.

"Nearly one in the afternoon," her photographer replied seriously, looking at his watch that read 10:24. "The boat is almost an hour late heading back."

"What?" Tamzin yelped. Having completely missing the subtle sarcasm that came through the receiver, she dashed over to her luggage bag and tore out some clothes from within at photonic velocity. "Why didn't anybody on the ship come to tell me? How come nobody knocked on my door?"

"I don't know, I guess they didn't want to be assaulted by a sleep-deprived writer. The staff all know how sharp a pen can get, I'm sure they'd prefer to leave you be than have a biro sticking out of their neck."

"Well that's just ridiculous Mark, I-" Tamzin stopped suddenly. It was as if the clock hanging on the wall had just caught the attention of her eye.

"Yes, it does sound ridiculous doesn't it?" Mark replied barely unable to repress his silent laughter. "I suggest you get down here as quickly as possible." Tamzin growled and threw the phone onto the bed, her heart hammering away frantically, still under the impression that she was in trouble with the ferry staff.

Accompanying her on this trip around the Orange Archipelago was professional photographer Mark Coreburn, who could be so convincing sometimes, so deadpan in his practical jokes that even Tamzin, who had spent several months travelling around with him while working on _My Experiences in the Whirl Islands and Other Johto Appendages _beforehand, still fell for them. Oh how he could make her look like an idiot.

_At least no one else saw this time, _Tamzin thought as she slowly recomposed herself, pulling on the rest of her clothes. The bright sunlight that trickled quietly through the gaps in the curtains quickly became a flood as she threw open the curtains, bathing her room in the lovely warm glow of the morning sunshine. From this side of the ship, nothing but endless calm seas stretched to the horizon with a few Pelipper and Wingull dotted around in the sky, filling the harbour air with their incessant squawking.

She was by no means the last person on the ship as when she exited her room twenty minutes later, she counted no less than seven people in the corridor leading from her room to the extravagantly ornate dining hall, itself home to almost thirty people sat around the circular tables with the breakfast spread set out before them. Quickly grabbing a small piece of baguette from an empty table, Tamzin mulled over what she could find out with a few hours free in Trovitopolis to put in her book, along with the best way of getting her own back on Mark, before heading out to the shining marble harbour lining the left side of the ship.

The startling humidity of Trovitopolis certainly did its tropical location justice, and although the absolute temperature would never creep above 30oC this time of year, once Tamzin had left the air-conditioned confines of the SS Neptune it felt as though she would meet the same fate as a snowman in spring. There was no sign of sympathetic breeze, and not even any respite of a shaded spot as the sun had already attained an almost perpendicular position up above. The lack of melting humans that could be seen somewhat alleviated her concern about not functioning in these conditions though, and she made a mental note to point out the ludicrously high humidity so far south in the Orange Islands in her book.

Exiting the ship down the makeshift stairs bridging the gap between the ship and harbour with her luggage bag clattering behind her, she spotted Mark almost immediately, a triumphant grin on his face as he adjusted the camera around his neck and quickly brought it up to his eye level.

"Smile!" he said happily, taking several pictures in quick succession; the camera flashes mercilessly attacking Tamzin's retinas. "We need to get going if you want to find out as much about this place as possible. We depart for that Oobujoovu place in four hours you know."

"So you got the call from Cherry too?" Tamzin asked exasperatedly, rubbing her eyes.

"Yep," Mark was now flicking through the pictures on his camera. "And I thought it would be a good idea to soak in as much of Trovitopolis before it gets too warm. You realise how hot it can feel down here?"

"I have a rough idea," she said bitterly, longing for cooler surroundings as she felt the first bead of sweat slowly trickle from her forehead. "Come on; let's get moving before we become human puddles."

"Well if you want to cool off I could always ask my Vaporeon to lend some assistance-"

"I might as well jump off the harbour; it would achieve the same effect."

"That can be arranged you know-"

"You'll find yourself down there if we don't get somewhere cool soon."

The buildings on the Trovitopolis harbour front was not exactly a masterpiece in architectural design, with disjointed three floored establishments lining the right hand side of the walkway, little alleyways leading somewhere out of sight every three doors down and a baffling array of different fading colours painted on the front façade of each building, the alleyways acting as the boundary between one grubby paint job and the other. It seemed as though beneath each different colour of paint were different construction materials haphazardly assembled to make up the individual buildings. This incredibly ostentatious display of architectural inconsistency made the seafront street look like an economically advanced shanty town, something set up by the financially stable with little consensus or agreement on what the prevailing construction style should have been. In comparison, the fully pedestrianised street of marble slabs where Tamzin and Mark were presently sweating their way down looked immaculate with the efficiently designed lampposts towering proudly in front of the small black metal fence that lined the edge of the harbour to the left setting up a brilliant contrast between the two sides of the street.

"These buildings are certainly different." Tamzin said with a hint of incredulity as they passed a small antique shop with an alarming shade of purple coating the front side. "Look how bad they look compared to those up there."

Behind the nauseating display of coloured buildings Tamzin could see the rest of Trovitopolis, thankfully of a more pleasing style, stretching into the hills that marked the boundaries of the city. The narrow alleyways between the harbour front buildings led to various six storey apartment complexes that, although looking slightly run down, still accomplished the easy task of looking far more aesthetically pleasing. Further along were the pleasant white suburban houses with large gardens on slightly higher ground with sprinkles of palm trees either side of the roads, followed by the busy tropical metropolis with the towering glass structures of national companies dictating the city skyline just a bit further up. In the far distance nestled in the higher hills were the large villas of the successful CEOs and finance traders who no doubt had their own sophisticated air conditioning systems and swimming pools complementing their multi-vehicle capacity garages and top of the range security systems (to deter those melting humans wishing to take a quick refreshing dip in the pool).

"If you want your book to sell here you'll have to be extremely restrained about this bit," Mark grinned. "At least you've got a lot to write about, though you might have to bend the truth slightly."

"Come on, let's go in here," Tamzin pointed to a small sky blue café on the opposite side a narrow alleyway to the purple antique shop whilst wiping the sweat that was beginning to drip down her face. "This heat is unbearable."

Stepping around the Wingull that was fighting a Rattata over a scrap of bread just outside the café entrance, Mark followed her in as she made a beeline straight for the empty table directly below the air conditioning system.

"Look at these people," she muttered; already seated by the time Mark had reached the table. She gazed around the café, where seven other tables were occupied by a mix of locals and tourists; not one of them seemed too perturbed by the intense humidity and if they were they were hiding it extremely well. "How can they not notice this heat? It's like they can't feel it!"

"I reckon it's because they're used to it," Mark replied lightly taking a seat opposite her, eyes gazing on the calm ocean beyond the black metal gate on the harbour edge. "Would you like some pictures of the harbour front?"

"God no, I don't want to put people off coming here." She reached into her hastily packed bag and retrieved her old notepad and a pen. "It'll be cooler when we return after going to Oh-ju-vu anyway so we can explore the rest of the city then. I won't have to mention this area at all."

"Don't you kind of need to though? Aren't you supposed to cover everything in a travel guide?"

"If I were to cover _everything _I would never finish writing the book. You have to omit some things."

Mark dropped his gaze from the ocean back into the café, and was met with Tamzin and pen in perfect synchronicity, squiggles that were supposedly words appearing seamlessly from the pen's nib. "So what are you writing about now?"

It was a full minute before Tamzin answered, mere conversation unable to interrupt the flow of words as they cascaded from her mind and down her arm into the pen. "Just some notes on the café."

Mark narrowed his eyes in confusion. "So would you want a picture of the café from outside?"

"No," Tamzin raised her head. "I just said that I don't want to put people off."

Mark narrowed his eyes further. "So... get a picture of the inside?" Tamzin had returned to jotting down her illegible opinions onto the notepad and gave a non-committal shrug of the shoulders. Conversational Tamzin had been disengaged and replaced by the much more efficient wordsmith version, which was however about as receptive to the external world as a fire extinguisher. Assuming that was more of a 'yes' than a 'no', Mark got up from the table (thereby leaving the protective influence of the air conditioning and venturing into the forsaken humidity) and headed over to the counter, which was staffed by a solitary apron-clad Mr. Mime who had its back to him as it poured a cup of coffee.

"Um... excuse me?" Mark asked quietly. Addressing to a Pokémon like it was a human did seem odd and slightly uncomfortable to him. It would have been easier had there not been two people sitting at a table right next to the counter, able to hear everything Mark said and giggle silently at him when a Pokémon turned down his attempt to ask a question. In the microsecond it took for the Mr. Mime to turn around and face him Mark sneaked a peek at the nearby table, and was relieved to see the two people giving their full attention to devouring the food that was gradually disappearing down their throats and not in fact paying any thought to him whatsoever.

The Mr. Mime turned around and plodded over to where Mark was standing with an inquisitive expression on its face.

"_Mime?_"

"Erm.. is there the manager around I can speak to?"

The Pokémon took a moment to register what was being asked of it.

"You know, someone... in charge?" Mark elaborated hesitantly. The longer he spent talking to the Pokémon the greater the chance the people at the nearby table would see him.

"_Mime!_" The Pokémon pointed at Mark, and then itself, then the wall behind the counter. "_Mime, mime. Mime, mime!_" it continued before bouncing towards a doorway in the back wall and disappearing out of view.

Mark stood there awkwardly with no idea whether the Mr. Mime had understood him at all. For all the he knew, the Pokémon could return with a bowl of soup and charge him for it.

What the Mr. Mime came back with (Mark almost sighed with relief) definitely did not resemble a bowl of soup as it had arms and legs, it could walk and it certainly looked like a manager of a small seafront café: balding head separating the last few follicles of youth, a round face that shone with sweat in the light, a slightly rotund figure (a curse of his middle age) and a humble demeanour radiating cleanly from him.

"Hello there! How can I help you today?" the manager asked genially as he approached the counter, mopping his forehead.

"Hi, I was just wondering whether I could take a couple of pictures of the inside of your café – it's for a travel book on the Orange Islands."

"Sure, of course you can," the manager replied pleasantly before leaning in close over the counter, murmuring "Do me a favour though. I'd appreciate it though if you don't photograph the outside. A more horrible exterior I have never seen." before straightening up again. "Snap away, be my guest!"

"Well that was easy," Mark said as he sat back down opposite Tamzin at their table ten minutes later. "The manager couldn't have been more helpful."

"Oh really?" Tamzin replied lightly as she filed away her notepad back in her bag, her conversational self mode back online. "Is that him coming over to our table right now?"

Mark swivelled around quickly only to get a face full of the manager's general crotchal region, which had chosen to place itself right behind Mark's head as the manager stopped at their table.

"So where we off to next then?" the manager asked joyfully, unaware of Mark's look of horror on his face as he slowly turned back around and Tamzin's stifled giggles. "Staying around in the area?"

"No we're off to another island," Tamzin said through repeated attempts of laughter trying to escape her mouth. "We've got a boat to catch in a couple of hours."

"Where, if you don't me asking, are you heading off to next?"

"Erm... this island called Oboojoo? Oojvubo? Something like that."

"Oobujoovu is what Cherry mentioned," Mark said, having recovered from his unfortunate encounter with that part of the manager's body. "I'm sure she said that."

"Oobujoovu?" the manager repeated vaguely. "Never heard of that place before. Is it far away?"

"No idea. We haven't been told how long it takes to get there."

"Oh wait! I do have this," Tamzin said, producing a piece of paper with _Trovitopolis ferry: Arcane City, Oojvo 5% _scribbled in messy handwriting.

"Oh right... _Oojvo_," Mark read aloud. "We weren't far off then. Still sounds as crazy as Oobujoovu though."

"Well at least we're not going to look like idiots when we pronounce the name wrong."

"People pronounce names wrong all the time. Is this place Trov-ee-ta Island or Trov-eye-ta Island? I'm sure I've heard both when we were on the ferry."

"This is strange," the manager said thoughtfully, peering at Tamzin's written note. "Are you sure you've got the right information?"

Tamzin and Mark exchanged glances.

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, I mean, I could be wrong - there _could_ be a place called Oojvo somewhere" he hastily added in a placatory fashion. "But I've lived in the Orange Islands for nearly sixty years - you do get to know all the different islands around after all – and not once have I ever heard of an 'Arcane City' or an Oojvo anywhere."

"It's OK; I've got a map of the area. We'll find it that way." Tamzin said, bringing out yet another item from her seemingly bottomless bag: a small fold-out pocket map.

"Here we are," the manager smoothed out the bottom part of the map as it flapped slightly under the air conditioning system. "Do you know which direction Oojvo is?"

The blank expressions told him everything.

"By all means this Oojvo island and city are waiting somewhere," The manager continued, searching the map closely for a couple of minutes before speaking again with a puzzled expression formed on his face. "I hate to tell you this though, but I'm not sure that they actually _exist_. They're nowhere on this map."

"Why don't you think anybody has heard of Oojvo?" Tamzin wondered as she and Mark left the café twenty minutes later back onto the marble slabs of the outside pavement. A small bit of nervous doubt had crept into her mind and was quietly gnawing away in her mind like a mouse with some wires beneath the floor boards.

"It's not _everybody_, it's just that guy who hasn't heard of it. He doesn't speak for everyone everywhere. Maybe Oojvo is so far away that it isn't on your map? I mean, we couldn't see the Whirl Islands on there but that doesn't mean they don't exist."

"I remember saying that I wouldn't mind a few extra days of tropical conditions to her on the phone last night-"

"I thought you said you didn't like this weather?" Mark grinned.

"My point is _why_ Cherry would tell us to go so far if only for a few days just to return here!" she pressed, almost exasperatedly.

"The manager guy hasn't got you worried has he?"

"Of course not! I'm just thinking this is not such a great idea now."

"I think this humidity has got to you a bit-" Mark started but immediately halted when she gave him a threatening look. "Well... maybe... maybe there's something special happening and we've got to be there." He invented, waving his hand dismissively. "I guess we'll find out soon enough though," he added, glancing at his watch. "It's time we caught our boat."

At which point, unbeknownst to either of them, an emerald Oojvo twinkled faintly on the horizon, heralding the direction to their future destination.


End file.
